


I Will Find You

by TheAsylumsAbyss



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Depressed Reese missing his Finch, Friendship/Love, M/M, Male Friendship, Slight Slash if you choose to look at it that way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-29
Updated: 2012-10-29
Packaged: 2017-11-17 07:11:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/548956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAsylumsAbyss/pseuds/TheAsylumsAbyss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Everyone has that one person that connects them to the world. Someone who makes them infinitely better than they were by themselves. When that person is taken from you, you become…different. You change into a shell of who you were with them and a faint memory of who you were before them. Losing that person for me the first time was terrible, but having someone else slip away after that? Well, it leaves a numb void that cannot be filled to say the least."</p><p>John looks back on his relationship with Harold after he is taken away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Will Find You

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, you guys!  
> I actually had to do this as a school assignment for reminiscences, so this piece may feel a bit more restricted than my other works. Keeping things to a certain fit criteria can be fun, but it can be hard to get in everything you want to for a story. Anyways, I wrote this before season two came out, so obviously I didn't know some pretty big plot points (IE - what the payphone was going to say to Reese, what actually did happen with Finch, ect.)  
> I hope you enjoy! :)

Everyone has that one person that connects them to the world. Someone who makes them infinitely better than they were by themselves. When that person is taken from you, you become…different. You change into a shell of who you were with them and a faint memory of who you were before them. Losing that person for me the first time was terrible, but having someone else slip away after that? Well, it leaves a numb void that cannot be filled to say the least.

I walk the streets of New York, feeling like I did before I met Harold. He was the one who saved me from the terror that was myself. When I lost the first person - Jessica was her name - I felt so empty, so cold, that liquor was just a failed attempt to fill a gaping hole that kept on growing over time. I was at an all time low in my life where ending it seemed like a viable offer, and time was the only restriction on that deal. Harold gave me a purpose and something to do other than drink until the bottle is empty and hope I wouldn‘t see the world past that. Without him, I am back to square one.

Eventually, I manage to pass park where Harold and I had our first conversation. It’s nothing special - just your regular New York park that shows the skyline of Manhattan with a bench that has seen more wear and tear than it should in this district. It was here when Harold and I really saw eye-to-eye. Looking at him, I would have never expected he would have been so willing to help me. With his stiff walking due to his limp, high class suits, and peculiar glasses that magnified his blue bug eyes, I wasn’t expecting much when he first bailed me out of jail. Hell, my first thought was that maybe he was working with my ex-CIA buddies and was getting ready to turn me in which, at that point, I wouldn’t have objected to. Either way, I wasn’t expecting the job proposal that followed our first encounter.

It’s a simple job; we get the social security numbers of people who are going to be involved in violent crimes, and we try to prevent it from happening. We don’t know whether the person will be the victim or perpetrator, and we have to keep in secret so that no one will ever find us. However, your number is up, we will find you.  
I stand there for awhile, wondering whether or not to walk away from where this memory was created. The worst part about losing Harold is that I have absolutely no clue where he is after he was taken. My only chance of finding him is through The Machine - the device Harold used to track every single person in New York and help us find new numbers. Even then, the hopes of me finding him are still slim.

Eventually, I depart and go back into New York traffic. My black trench coat billowing and whipping around with the ever increasing autumn winds. These the same streets I had paced through many times when tracking down numbers with Harold at the library base, giving me directions through the phone. There was a familiarity in his voice - a type of comfort I only had beforehand when I was with Jessica. The lack of commentary from him as I continue to plunge through the streets leaves an empty void on my walk. Like there should be a sound that feels so commonplace that it is shocking to hear it stripped away.

The jobs were always interesting with Harold - sometimes we would be protecting a lawyer down on their luck, other days we would be preventing a mafia member-on-member assault. The work was always steady, and it never left me wondering what my next orders would be. Find the number, resolve the situation, and leave; simple as one, two, and three.  
My feet lead me to the front of a motel. In all honesty, I’m not quite sure how I got here, but I know why my subconscious led the way. This is the hotel where Harold finally completely sold me on the idea of The Machine and preventing crimes.

Needless to say, I was doubtful in his first persuasion. He gave me the first name and face to protect, but I blew him off claiming that he was just a rich bored guy who had nothing better to do than harass me. How I ended up in the cheap motel was simply out of the need to sleep in an actual bed. That night, I went to sleep drunk and awoke in a new hotel room to the sounds of a woman being brutally assaulted. However, that was all they were - sounds. Harold had set up a sound recording of a murder previously recorded in the same room and played them for me, as if to inspire me of my true purpose.

At that point, I had jumped back into CIA mode - I was willing to murder in cold blood in to complete a task. He brought up Jessica and her death, saying I couldn’t save her, but could save the next person in her circumstance. A bit of anger flared up in between the mentioning of Jessica, but it simmered down before the conversation ended. I guess after that, I was completely sold. Harold got a new employee, and I had a new purpose.

I stroll off, past the motel and back onto the street. I don’t need a bed right now. In fact, if given one, I doubt that I could sleep. So I continue to wander down the street, brushing shoulders with strangers and scanning the area lazily. Eventually, my wandering leads me to the pier, where another memory is waiting for me.

While I could say that the work with Harold always was stable, I can’t say we were perfect at our jobs. The thing with The Machine is that we were always given a number, but never the circumstances. The fourteen-year-old you’re defending could end up being a kid that needs to be protected, or one looking for revenge in its most blunt fashion. We found that out when we accidentally saved a mafia head from his own execution. It was then when I felt like I couldn’t do it anymore - we saved one person who would go on to kill hundreds. Although I could say I was angry at Harold for the information, I was more furious at myself for making such a mistake.

Did I quit? Obviously not. However, it did rattle me enough to be more cautious while on the job. Unfortunately, I wasn’t so lucky with Harold.

Back on the streets, I see a camera pointed near one of the buildings. To some, this may seem normal. However, I know The Machine far too well - this was how Harold got his information. He created The Machine to observe these crimes and prevent them, and it was his intention for me to keep on doing the jobs until we were both dead. I stare directly into the street camera, and I know it seems foolish to do, but I decide to speak to it.

"He's in danger now, because he was working for you." I say to it, having a more-than-accurate feeling that it is listening or that there is something behind that lens. "So you're going to help me get him back."

It takes a moment, but eventually I hear a payphone ring behind me. I turn around and place the phone to my ear.

I will find you, Harold.


End file.
